


Lights will guide you home

by stevenatalia (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, POV Natasha Romanov, POV Steve Rogers, Pain, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-07-12 00:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19936972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stevenatalia
Summary: She was really in a dark place. She had no one to call, nowhere to go to. She craved his presence but she knew she had to face this all alone this time.He was broken from the recent events - the loss and break up of his newfound family in the modern era - but he was keen on finding her. He craved her presence but he knew he had to take risks in his search for her.Lost, but they always find their way back to each other. Broken, but they heal each other.





	1. The run and hideout

**Author's Note:**

> Doing chapter works for the first time! This story is based on what I pictured happened after Captain America: Civil War. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment on my grammar mistakes!

“This is ridiculous, Cap.” Wanda draped a pink jacket around her shoulders as she trailed behind Steve.

“Maybe a little worse than ‘ridiculous’”, Sam picked up speed from behind her, pushing twigs and little branches out of his way.

“I think it looks great on you, Wanda.” Vision’s voice emerged from behind Sam, his flying body invisible.

“Focus, guys.” Steve who was leading the way, stopped in his tracks. He hand-signaled the team to lay low as he bent down.

It had been nearly five days since leaving Wakanda, the four fugitives managed to avoid dropping any hints to the UN government on their whereabouts. For days, they tracked through forests, mountains, and rivers. Food intake mainly consisted of crickets and fishes cooked over fire pits they assembled from scratch with woods and sharp rocks. Sam took most of the credit for the provision of ‘camp’ survival guides while Steve contributed more in the physical work. With her superhuman ability, Wanda’s task on catching fishes was easily done using her magic. Vision’s main task was to be on the lookout.

Through the little gaps between the leaves, Steve saw an old and dingy single-story wooden house sits in the middle of the forest planted with tall trees. The wood panels that built its wall screamed a need for care, the glass on one window shattered and the gloomy vibe it radiated suggested long-term untenanted. The green leaves of the surrounding trees almost translucent as the bright sunlight shone through them, forming shadows on the ground beneath them. The sound of wildlife can be heard. It was almost such a fascinating view, for a quaint house to be sitting in the middle of a beautiful forest, yet the dead spirit of the house never blends into its lively surrounding.

Perhaps it was portraying something metaphorical?

“It’s clear, Captain. I have just made a big round and there are no signs of threat, not at least 3 miles radius of that house.”

“That’s the house she told you about?” Sam wasn’t too impressed with the run-down house.

“Should be. There are no other houses here in this forest in Sweden that I know of… well, at least of that I know of. Whatever. Follow my lead.”

Steve hunched his back and slightly bent his knees as he sneaked towards the house. The team tailed his back, making pattering sounds over the songs of the chirping birds. Each of them except vision had a wooden stick in their hands as temporary weapons. The door groaned at its hinges as Steve nudged it open. The creaking sound of the floor grew as more feet walked across the living room. The once white wallpaper now stained with dirt, a shabby couch on the side of the room collected dust, the room was empty and is void of spirit.

“Looks like she’s not been here for a long time, Cap.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t comment further, though he roughly knew how long it was ago. “Alright, I’ll check the kitchen to see if we have any canned food… if we’re even lucky enough. Take a short break for now, later, we’re most likely going out to hunt for food again.”

Clouds of dust burst into the air as Steve tossed his wooden stick onto the couch. He walked into the dim kitchen, slightly disgusted with the grimy counter-top surface. The tap gave minimal water due to long-term disuse. The cabinets contained nothing but dust and spiderwebs.

Steve sighed as he returned to the living room, giving the other three clues of what was, or wasn’t, in the kitchen. He slumped onto the couch, coughing as more dust entered his lungs.

“Captain, you can rest, I will go gather some crickets for some snacks now.”

“No, Vision, you’ve done enough. Take some rest.”

“I’m a robot, sir. Tiredness is not in my system. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll follow you, Vis,” Wanda lifted a finger as she turned to Steve, “I know what you’re going to say, but I will not listen to you, Cap.”

Steve pressed one side of his lips together as Wanda delivered him a playful expression before leaving the house with Vision.

There was a short pause before Sam broke the silence.

“Given the state of this place, I assume this is not one of her secret hideouts anymore.”

“Well, at least we know now that she didn’t come here recently. That’s something. No news is still something.”

“But do you know why not?”

“Yeah.” Steve bit his lips. “It was one of her mission, about some hospital fire in a nearby country, Norway. She was on the run, and this was her hideout for about four months. It was nearly eight or nine years ago since she left here, she never came back.”

“Right. You’re still not explaining why she didn’t choose to come here this time around though.”

“Because she nearly got killed when they found her here. She was just around here somewhere when shots were fired, she managed to escape and hid in the forest for days before coming back. They’ve raided her place, took away some of her belongings and food. So, umm, when she told me about this place, she said to only come when we’re in trouble and when she’s not with us. She didn’t want to risk anyone finding us here if she’s here with us.”

“Homegirl really cares for you no matter what huh.”

Steve kept his gaze low, his hand swept his hair back, feeling the greasiness at the roots. He was silent but multiple voices in his mind began to speak. _Perhaps she does._

“What’s going on in your mind, Cap?” Sam crossed his arms as he leaned on the run-down wall, the wood creaked to the pressure applied to it.

“It’s nothing, Sam. Don’t worry about it.”

“There’s a lot of stakes going on, man. You gotta let it out, you’re not Captain America now, be Steve Rogers.”

Steve raised his head to share eye-contact with Sam. The beaming sunlight entered the room through the window next to Sam, some of it bouncing off the side of his face. Steve could see specks of dust floating around, the room still smelled of age.

_Sam’s right. I’ve two people who represented the life I had before the ice, one’s gone and one’s back in the ice. I’ve one friend who was always by my side but now running as a fugitive on her own. I’ve just fought a good friend who built a home for us. Aside from Wanda and Vision, Sam’s the only close friend who would probably understand me most now._

“First, I lost Peggy, then Tony, then Bucky, and now I don’t know where Natasha is. I don’t know, Sam. It just feels like time’s not enough for me. As a soldier, the time you share with your teammate is limited and you have to deal with the loss of people of your own. I didn’t think it applies outside of war too.”

The tears swimming in his ocean blue eyes reflected the sunlight shone on them, his elbows rested on his knees as his right thumb rubbed circles on his left hand’s knuckles. Sam nodded in silence to portray sympathy.

“That’s a lot to deal with, Steve.” Sam used his first name this time, reminding him that he’s not the Captain America the world knows right now. “You didn’t have enough time with them, but you didn’t have enough time to grieve your loss too. And I’m not only talking about Peggy, I mean your other friends too.”

“Not sure if I’m granted the time to do that, Sam. The world always seems to be needing Captain America.”

“Not now, though. And you’re here with us, we’re your family and friends too.”

Steve swallowed a lump in his throat, rolled his tongue across the inside of his left cheek and stared on the dull braided mat sitting on the floor in front of his feet.

“Tony… I sent him a spare phone and a letter when I was in Wakanda. He’s yet to call me, but it’s not even a week so I guess time will tell. I guess time’s not really a limit on this friendship, if it eventually works out.”

“What are your feelings about this whole thing though?”

“Heartbroken? A little. Torn-in-between maybe. I’d protect Bucky no matter what, but I don’t want to fight my good friend from this modern world, man. Lost. Definitely lost, because I don’t know what to do now, other than to wait for a call from Tony and wait for Bucky to come out from going under again. Yet, I also don’t know what to do with the four of us.”

“Mhmm.”

“Five. Five of us. See? There we have another problem. I don’t know how to find or contact Nat. I can’t even call her cell-phone because they would’ve tracked us down.” Steve’s fingers ran through his hair as he buried his face in his forearms. “I know she’s good at hiding from the public’s eyes, but I am worried for her, Sam.”

“Me too, Steve.”

“When she aimed that widow bite at us, I didn’t lift my shield up for defense.” Steve let out a small chuckle and shook his head, “I once told her I trusted her to save my life, and she really did it this time. Now, she’s a fugitive too, because of me. That’s the cost of being a hero, isn’t it? Putting your close ones in danger.”

Sam pushed his foot against the floor to regain balance, he took some light footsteps towards Steve, who finally let a tear streamed down his strong bony face. He gave the sorrowing man a squeeze on the shoulder. The emotional toll of the death of Peggy and the recent events with his close friends had taken up too much of him.

“You know she’d say that its not your fault if she’s here, Steve. And we don’t mind being in this circle of danger, that’s what good friends and family do.”

“Thanks, Sam, you’re a good man.” He sniffed before wiping his tears.

“What’d I say, dude, Captain Amer- no, Steve Rogers needs my help, there’s no better time to say I will.”

The two exchanged smiles with one another before heading outside to join Wanda and Vision.


	2. Escaping alone

An oversized grey hoodie hid her auburn hair, some hair tips peeked out through the gaps on the side. Her sunglasses painted the surrounding beige limestone buildings one shade darker. Her feet strolled through the busy crowd, making turns at various gothic-styled cathedrals and buildings within the Budapest’s Roman-built city. A paradise to many who had the time to soak up its architectural sights, but not for her. The appearance of some structures, statues and tombstones triggered memories she wouldn’t call pleasing.

Natasha’s feet brought her to a bridge, a quick scan across the scene told her where she was. The Margaret Bridge, connecting the lands of Buda and Pest across the Danube river, also linking to an island that sits in the middle of the river, splitting it into two. Standing at the end of the bridge, the familiarity from the sight of the environment and the smell of air reminded her of a memory, one that was apparent and unforgettable.

Natasha wasn’t sure why she’d end up being back in this flamboyant city though, after all, she was on the run from the government and her incident in Budapest was one of the most well-known cases in S.H.I.E.L.D.

The blazing sun was extracting sweats out from her skin, it was mid-summer and she was the sole person in Europe who had a hoodie on. Sipping on her iced tea, she suddenly felt uneasy. A mild wave of tingles rode down her spine as she became internally alert of her surroundings. Still having the straw in between her lips, she pretended to turn around naturally and leaned against the wall of the bridge. Her sharp eyes scanned the faces of the crowd like a hawk, a sense of worry grew by the seconds. No sign of threat or suspicious person in sight, but she couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief. She often trusted her own guts as they almost always turned out to be right. However, knowing that the world is looking for her, it is possible that her own emotions were blending into the mix.

She reached into her back pocket for her phone. The lock screen displayed a low battery logo and the date informed her that it had been four days since she left the hospital where she last saw Rhodey and Tony. Her phone unlocked as it detected her thumbprint. She opened the contact list and scrolled to the ‘S’ list. Her gaze locked at his name on the screen – _Steve Rogers._

_I hope you’re safe out there somewhere, Steve, as well as the rest of the team. I hope you remember the place I told you two years ago. I would call you now, but I can’t risk our safety._

Natasha instinctively propped her head up before her conscious awareness kicked in, her eyebrows furrowed as a feminine figure became clearer in her vision. Blonde hair tied in a ponytail and dressed in full black, the young woman seemed to be pacing towards Natasha. She wanted to act natural and wait it out, but the fierce fixated gaze from the woman prompted her to toss her drink aside and head up the bridge immediately.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket as her pace quickly picked up, her heart racing from the combination of panic and brisk walking. Her body twisted and swerved around the pedestrians on the narrow sidewalk, hoping her short stature would get lost in the busy crowd from the suspicious woman’s sight.

Nearly reaching the mid-point of the Margaret bridge, she heard some cussing from behind that sounded like a rude person knocked into them without apologizing. Her breathing was heavy as the road became steeper, sweats dripping down her temples and neck. She could sense that the woman was getting closer, as so, she hastened her steps and leaped onto the green island that linked to the bridge at the mid-point. With lesser human beings in her way, she ran through the large recreational park towards the Water Tower. A quick swing of her head to the back, she saw that same woman emerged from the crowd of pedestrians, landing her feet into the island and ran to chase her.

“Out of the way!” she urged tourists and visitors who were enjoying their leisure time in the landscaped park to be careful.

The depleting energy in her legs from the lack of enough calorie intake in the past days called for her witty thinking of an alternative plan of escape. Running was not a good option, so now it is time to drive. But the island lacked vehicles and roads were minimal, Natasha could only spot one or two taxis around. She sprinted towards an unoccupied taxi parked near a sculpture, opened the driver’s door and dragged him out by his collar. He was too stunned to react to her quick action. She started the engine and made a U-turn, speeding back into the path where she entered the island. The blonde woman appeared on her rear mirror, stopped in her tracks for a short while before snatching a motorbike from a man few steps away from her.

Natasha was stopped by the busy traffic as she reached the bridge, _shit_ , she looked into the rear mirror again and saw the woman on the motorbike drove closer. Her expression was as fierce as before. Running out of better options, she got out of the car and delivered a hard kick on a bike riding along the jam-packed road. The biker fell onto his side, but his motorbike was quickly grabbed before it could fall on him.

Natasha gripped onto the handles as her leg swung over the motorbike to sit on it, the engine roared as she turned the throttle. The two motorbikes sped through the gaps between cars, making quick sharp turns at corners after they got off the bridge. Car honks prolonged and pedestrians screamed as the motorbike chase went through them. In a quieter street, shots were fired towards Natasha. She managed to dodge all of them, a quick glance behind confirmed her suspicion that the woman opened fire. She could tell it was a handgun.

On a narrow road leading to a dead-end, she swerved the bike from side to side to reduce the chance of getting shot by the woman chasing her. Approaching the end of the road connecting to a small alley and a long flight of stone-built staircase, she made an almost 180-degree turn and leaped forward as she tossed the bike away from her. The flying bike smashed onto the wall of a building and debris flew everywhere, causing nearby pedestrians to flinch and instantly moved away. Natasha landed on all fours, but the adrenaline rush pushed her back onto her two feet and bolt away. She nearly dropped to her knees as she was speeding up the stairs when a bullet entered her right calve. She grabbed the stairs handle and pulled herself up, her speed now a lot slower as every contraction of muscle sent ripples of pain through her whole leg. The blonde woman stood in a firm stance and continued to fire against the redhead. She was determined not to slow down and get a second shot, though the pain was intense, and blood was oozing out of her calve, staining her pants and shoe.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs, the loud gunshots were no longer heard, perhaps she ran out of bullets. Natasha winced in pain and limped towards an alley that sets between two tall buildings. There wasn’t anyone around, perhaps they got scared away from the sound of the gunshots. It was more of a relief, though, because that would mean lower chance of getting caught, although her blood-stained shoe prints on the stairs would’ve led a big clue for the authorities to follow on.

The alley was dark but still visible, the brick walls stained with dirt and several dumpsters were located along the alley. Her hand pressed and slide across the wall for support, sweats damped the collar of her hoodie and tips of her hair. The only thing running through her mind was to figure out a way to hide instead of escaping for now. She saw a door a few steps in front of her that led into the back of the building, but before she could reach it, a metal cylinder container rolled from behind and knocked her foot. Cloudy gas spread from the tear gas grenade, stinging and temporarily blinding her eyes and irritating her nose, mouth, and lungs which caused her to cough excessively. The suffocation combined with the wounding pain in her legs made her dropped on her knees. The last thing she remembered was a blow to her head before she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on what I personally think happens to Natasha post-cw; I was kind of surprised when they announced part of the black widow movie's plot at SDCC a few days ago because it is similar to what I theorized prior to the announcement - Natasha going to Budapest post-cw and encountering Yelena.
> 
> But of course, the story I have will be different from the movie (p.s. the movie is going to be god tier). 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it, please feel free to comment on my grammar/ give feedback!


	3. hang in there

The heat from the campfire warmed their skin, the orange dancing flames can be seen in the reflection of their eyes, devouring each new wood offered by Steve or Sam every few minutes. The dark hours brought chilly winds and the moon stood out in the clear night sky. The singing birds became quiet when the sunset, leaving the crickets’ chirps to take over.

Conversations between the four were minimal, as they focused on feeding the burning campfire and roasting the three fishes they caught earlier in the day.

“I’m starting to get sick of this.” Wanda tore a piece of the fish and inserted it into her mouth. “I need some tartar sauce or garlic butter sauce with this. Heck, even ketchup would be great.”

“Who eats fish with ketchup?” Sam tossed a roasted cricket in the air and caught it with his mouth.

“Well, according to my knowledge of human’s food preferences, fish sticks are great with ketchup.”

“Vision, that’s not the same.”

“Technically, they are fishes.”

“Nope. Not the same.”

“Alright you two. I’m just kidding.”

The three switched their gazes to Steve who remained speechless the entire night. His face void of any expression and they were convinced he wasn’t paying a single drop of attention to their conversations. His elbows rested on his knees as he played with a piece of wood in his hands before tossing it into the flame which then sent feeble sparks into the air. He kept giving fuel to fill the blazing energy of the fire, but where was his own fuel when he’s getting emptier insider as the days have passed?

“You alright, Steve?”

He let out a big sigh, the rhythmic movement of the dancing flames made it look like he almost huffed the fire out. “Yeah, I am.”

“Thinking about her?” Sam passed him a thin wooden stick with its end pierced through the mouth and inside of a fish. The smoke emerging from its crispy golden skin suggested a perfect fresh cooked fish.

He grabbed the stick from Sam and brought the fish closer to him. The stinging pain from its hot skin unregistered by his sensory neurons in his fingertips. His nails dug deep into the flesh as it cuts through the skin, peeling a large chunk of fish meat before putting it into his mouth. He chewed slowly and his tongue absorbed the flavourless churned up food. He finally swallowed, but instead of going for another bite, he placed the stick down.

“I’m leaving.”

“What? Where?”

“To find Natasha.” He raised his head and furrowed his eyebrows, filling his gaze with some determination.

“But we don’t know where she is, Steve. You gotta calm down.”

“It’s been a week since we arrived here. There’s no clue of her whereabouts. I can’t just sit here and wait around for news to come.” His worry expressed in his tone.

“Captain, we’re coming with you.”

“No, you three will stay here. It's going to be a risky journey, I can’t drag you all along with me. I’ve caused enough trouble already, and I still need to repay that.”

“You owe us nothing, Steve.”

Steve shook his head. He was interrupted by Sam as he was about to speak, “Are you sure about this, though.”

“I’ve had enough time to grieve for Peggy, Sam. I may have lost some of my friends but now I know I have to focus on the one person I cared about most, one that I can find and get back.”

Sam nodded. Steve pressed his knees as he stood up, brushed the wood flakes off the back of his pants and then tossed one more piece of wood into the fire. The yellow-orange flame rose and the emanating heat was felt on their skin.

“I’m calling it a night. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

He trudged towards the house, filling the air with the sound of cracking twigs and leaves with each footstep he took.

“Sam, you sure he’ll be okay?” Wanda turned to Sam as soon as Steve shut the front door behind him.

Sam let out a chuckle, “don’t worry, we’ve been having our one-to-one talk over the past few nights. He’s just seen things through, Natasha’s the only concern he has left.”

He gave the two pair of eyes an assuring smile.

* * *

The rhythmic sound of metal banging against a wooden floor grew louder as her consciousness began to draw in. Squinting as the sunlight entered her eyes through the window, she noticed a feminine figure silhouetted against the bright light. The outline of the woman’s body became more defined and her face was more visible as Natasha’s eyes adapted to the light intensity around her. She instantly recognized her – the blonde woman who was chasing her; the recent memories immediately rushed into her mind.

“Good morning, Natasha.” Her deep voice with a Russian accent said. She lifted the metal stick and her free hand gripped around the other end of the stick.

“Who are you?” her monotone made her question sounded more like a statement.

The blonde woman let out a fake laugh before strutting towards the redhead who was tied up into a chair, one tapping sound from her heels per second. Natasha kept her fierce stare at the woman as she came closer. Emerging from the bright background, her features became clearer. Thick lips painted with dark red lipsticks, sharp jawline and sharp nose, her eyebrows neatly trimmed, the only familiar feature was her hair tied in a ponytail, as she was last seen. Her black long-sleeved crop top revealed her toned stomach, a pair of leather jeans fit perfectly around her legs. Natasha tilted her head sideways and upwards as the blonde woman was a step away from her.

“Yelena Belova. Like you, I was trained in the Red Room program,” she smirked, “they talked about you a lot, you are a legend to the girls in the room. You were always the best, Natalia Romanova.”

Natasha frowned at that name – her Russian name – which she had not heard since the encounter with Zola in 2014 with Steve.

“But not anymore. Not when you decided to ditch your own country, and especially not when you decided to join the avengers and what… save the world? After spilling so much red on your hands?” Yelena swung the metal stick towards her head, stopping just an inch away from the side of Natasha’s head, she didn’t flinch. The wind from the quick motion blew a strand of her hair to the front of her face.

“And you’re here to bring me back to Russia?” she blew the strand of hair away from her view.

“I’m here to end you. You don’t deserve that ‘Black Widow’ mantle, Natalia, or should I say Natasha now that you’re with the Americans?”

“What makes you think you deserve to take over the mantle then?”

Yelena let out another bout of fake laugh. “I may lack experience, but I was the next person in the Red Room program to graduate with skills as good as yours. And by ending you, it will be an experience worthy enough to make history in the world of Black Widows!”

“Keep dreaming, young one, black widows don’t die easy-“

A quick swing and hit by the metal stick sent her head spinning accompanied by ringing in her ears. Her vision became double and she swore she could feel some blood vessels popped in her brain, if not, a crack in her skull. She felt a firm grip around her jaw as she shut her eyes close to wash out the dizziness.

“You’re right, they don’t. Physical pain is nothing, isn’t it? So, I’ll kill you in another way.”

Natasha felt her bending and inching closer to her face, sensing a sharp gaze from the blonde and a whiffy stink of perfume awakened her smell senses. She maintained her frown and kept her eyes shut, mainly to recover from the blow to her head and partly to avoid eye contact with Yelena.

“Where should I start? Oh yes, one of your first bloodiest mission, Sao Paolo? Consider it a success, for how you managed to leave no trace behind after brutally slicing eight necks. What’s next, Dreykov’s daughter? No, let’s skip that. Oh, the hospital fire in Sweden?”

Natasha’s eyes gaped open at the mention of “hospital fire”, her angry furrowed eyebrows slightly raised, her eyes flushed with a wave of guilt and fear. Chills ran through her veins, replacing boiling blood that were flowing in the past few minutes. Of all her mission, the hospital fire was one she couldn’t forgive herself most. She was so close to sabotaging the mission, so close to saving lives instead of killing them, so close to breaking free from being used as a tool for once. Every time she heard the two words ‘hospital fire’, the bad memories break through her wall and invade the confident front face she puts on all the time.

‘ _Hospital fire’,_ and the image of flames taking over the white building flashed through her mind.

‘ _Hospital fire’,_ and the sound of children’s laugh before explosions played in her ears.

‘ _Hospital fire’,_ and the struggle and shiver she felt in her body as she tossed grenades and explosives right by the ward’s entrance came back.

‘ _Hospital fire’,_ and the sight of rescuers frantically pushing wheel stretchers out from the burning site repeated endlessly in her head.

‘ _Hospital fire’,_ and the view of parents crying over their children’s lifeless bodies brought her back to that moment as if she was experiencing it all over again.

‘ _Hospital fire’,_ and she’s back in the woods again, watching the events from afar, shaking in fear and drowning in regret and guilt.

Yelena smirked at her reaction before pulling her face away and standing straight again. Natasha’s gaze followed her face, breathing out as she tried to suppress her feelings.

“It was cold, Natasha, cold. 15 children, all under the age of 18. None survived, most of them died from smoke inhalation, others died of excessive burns.”

“Stop it.”

“Do you remember the cries and yells from the family? What did you hear before you left the explosives? The children’s laughs and chatters? Did you see their faces before you left the building?”

“Stop!” she shuddered; her breathing grew heavy.

 _Crumbling down is a weakness,_ she reminded herself as she blinked hard before giving Yelena a cold hard stare.

“You left them, you murdered them. And you can never wipe that red off your hands nor your fucking ledger.” 

Every natural body movement was on hold, she forced a brave face, trying to bury the guilt that she managed to suppress for a long time. How the outcome would’ve been different, if she had listened to her conscience. If she had made a different call, if she allowed herself to have a voice, if she spared the children’s lives, could life be very different now? It was uncertain, she might have been killed by them, those people who control her every bit of action and took freedom away from her, she might have just ended her life there if they ever track her down, but on the other hand, she wouldn’t have made it to Budapest and she wouldn’t have been saved by her great friend, Clint, before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. She wouldn’t have had the chance to earn a role model like Steve and learn to be good. It was only when she experienced the pleasure and sense of achievement when she became an avenger, that she learned about good vs. bad, and from that she found her purpose in life, to do good forever and always.

“You’re not going to torture me that easily, young one.” Her voice in a deep tone.

Another swing to her arms sent throbbing pain down her nerves, her body stiffened up as she tried to pull her arms out from the tight ropes wrapping her around the chair.

“No chance of escaping, Natasha.”

She sent another blow to her head before dropping the metal stick onto the floor. The clinging sound echoed in Natasha’s ears, she vaguely remembered what Yelena mumbled in those seconds of merely passing out. The raging pain around her head came and went as she drifted in and out of consciousness, black mist swirled at the edges of her mind as the world around her seemed to be spinning. She had no doubt she had suffered from a few concussions.

A drop of scarlet blood dripped onto her thighs as she lowered her head. She could hear a series of gunshots before they began to fade and overtook by ringing in her ears. Her vision turned pitch black again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Just to note, the stories of São Paulo, the Hospital Fire, and Budapest here are non-mcu canon! I'm only using the references from Avengers and a deleted scene of ca:tws :)


	4. discovery

Breathing in the waft of old smell as he entered and shut the front door behind him, Steve made his heavy footsteps across the living room and into the small room located next to the kitchen. An old mattress sat on top of the floor, next to it lies a small drawer with two compartments. The room was otherwise empty, each corner filled with specks of dust and spider webs.

The team had been taking turns to sleep on the mattress each night, and tonight it was Steve’s.

He slumped onto the mattress as his mind wandered in a pool of thoughts. _Where could she be?_

He had no clues on where he should begin searching for her. Given the size of Europe, it could take years to find her on foot, who knew if she was still in Europe at all. Rubbing the back of his left hand, he tried to bring himself back to the moment she told him about this hideout.

_They were in Sam’s house after completing a side mission, Natasha was applying ointment on a minor cut on the back of Steve’s left hand. It started with a silent moment until Natasha finally decided to speak up._

_“We nearly slipped there. It really could’ve gone a lot worse if Sam didn’t back you up, Steve.”_

_“I know, but mission plans don’t always run smoothly, do they?” he gave her a smirk._

_She rolled her eyes at him, “Steve, listen, next time when things ever go south, if, if things go south, now you promise me, will you follow my advice, even if it means I can’t be with you?”_

_“What do you mean? What advice?”_

_Natasha placed the last piece of tape over the gauze on his wound before closing the lid to the ointment bottle. She let out a sigh and began to detail him about her secret hideouts, vaguely including parts of her past stories, just to make her narrative more coherent. After all, she knew she could trust Steve not to judge her for the blood she had spilled in her hands._

“What was it after this place? What was it after Sweden?” he groaned in frustration.

Steve let out a sigh as he stopped rubbing his hand, his frustration went a little as he reminisced the time she treated his wound, the soft look she wore, the gentleness of her touch as she carefully applied the ointment on his hand. It was one of the very few moments he got to witness the soft and caring side of Natasha, one that he adores besides the fierce hard-heartened look she always gave.

As he allowed the silence of the night drew in, he instinctively turned his head towards the beaten drawer, his eyes scanned it’s splintered edges and then landed on the broken handle of the bottom chest. An instinctive feeling within his stomach urged him to pull it open, without any second thoughts, he did so.

Inside, he found a dried-out black pen and a rusty blade. While the ounce of hope he initially had when he opened the chest was kicked away, a pinch of curiosity kicked in. He lifted the pen up to allow the moonlight streaming into the room through the window behind him to shine on it, there was no ink left. He also noticed that the tip of the blade was bent, as if used as a lever to lift a relatively heavier object.

_There isn’t any paper in the drawer, did Nat wrote something and kept it somewhere…?_

He frowned as he gathered some of his mental strength to think harder.

Just as Steve was staring vacantly at the pen he was holding up high, its shadow on the wooden floor drew his attention. He inched forward and focused on the gap between the two wooden panels that sat in front of his feet. Something within him reminded him of the blade in his other hand. Without any second thoughts, he inserted the tip of the blade into the gap and levered the wood panel up. There was a surge of excitement and hope as he found a piece of folded paper and some old belongings hidden underneath the floor.

Placing the pen and blade aside, his hand gradually reached for the piece of paper. Under the moonlight, the yellowish patches around its edges were revealed. Flipping it open, it brought a musty smell, similar to those of old books. Steve scanned through the neatly written words, the ink around the edges of the letters slightly smudged.

There was a list of places on the top half of the paper, such as Osaka, São Paulo, all with a check symbol next to it, except one: Budapest.

Steve frowned, _could this be the place she headed to after they nearly found her here? Is this another mission?_ He continued reading, there was a sentence at the bottom: Last mission for this round before they give me a break. Found a hideout in Budapest: North West of Gubacsi bridge, all the way at the end of Védgát street, several abandoned houses in the middle of a forest.

_Another hideout._

His eyes widened as he thought to himself, _could she be there now? Could she be in Budapest?_

He switched his gaze back onto the back of his left hand again. In a blink of an eye, memories came flooding back in, this time playing like a smooth tape.

_“…so if you ever get your annoying selfless ass into trouble, Steve, go there, that hideout in Sweden.”_

_“where can I find you then, if you’re not going there?”_

_“Somewhere safe. A hideout I never really made to. What a shame, I’ve got it all planned out, found the location, written it down, convinced myself that it was the last time I’ll ever do… it.” Her smirk disappeared and there was a drop in her tone, “then they found me at the hideout, I think I shoved the paper somewhere hidden, I forgot. That was before they found me and before I hid in the forest for days.”_

_“Where’d you go after that?”_

_She broke eye contact with him, her lips quivered as she hesitated to speak, “Budapest.”_

“So, it really might be Budapest”, Steve murmured under his breath as he snapped back into reality. He folded the paper into half, stopping in his tracks as the smell of old paper wafted into his nostrils. There was a slight hint of doubt that stirred within him, _but she why would she be in Budapest now?_ After all, Budapest is close to Germany, and while authorities around the world prioritized capturing those who defected the U.N.’s accord, Natasha’s incident at Budapest is one of the well-known cases recorded in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database. Budapest would be one of those in the high-risk place to be.

These were times Steve tried to think like her, like the Black Widow, like the spy who can calculate people’s moves and plans of action just with a handful of information, one that does not lack wit. Deep down, he knew no matter how hard he always tried, he just couldn’t reach in there. Often, he’d stare into her emerald green eyes, those eyes he deemed beautiful and lost, piercing and soft, sane and mad. And more often than not, he’d wish he could see through them, he’d wish he could enter her darkness and share some of that fear with her, but too often, he found it difficult to push through her wall. Whether he intended to get into her mind to access her intelligent side or to access her emotional side, he always found it near impossible. The Black Widow was that complex, and only she understood herself best.

“Budapest it is then,” he decided to give his only option a go, “I’ll find you, Nat.”

Alone in the dark room, he quenched the moonlight entering through the window, allowing the silence to fill the air.

_I miss you,_

_And I hope,_

_You find my precious company,_

_When you feel,_

_Most alone._

* * *

Awakening to the thumping headache, burning pain from the scrapes around her arms and sores all over her body, she held her breath and hoped that the pain would wane. Her mind spun in confusion, still attempting to recall what had happened until she saw the dried patch of brown on her thigh that had wicked into her pair of pants. Wincing in pain, she lifted her heavy head to the sound of a heavy panting from across the room.

Sat on the cold floor leaning against the wall adjacent to her was the once fierce and sassy blonde woman, she was now different. Arms chained to the stand of a heavy shelf next to her, she breathed heavily, gasping for air with every breath she took. Her head slumped, fresh blood oozing out from the deep cut on her forehead, dripping onto the floor like a slow running tap water. Along the traces on her neck, stained with lines of blood that had once flowed down like rainwater on a windowpane. Her legs spread open, one of them jerked every now and then. Some blank bullets were laying on the floor around her, none seemed to have hit any of the two women, well, at least from where Natasha could see. 

“Yelena.” Her voice was hoarse.

There wasn’t any reaction until a few seconds later. Yelena lifted her head to share a lifeless gaze with Natasha. The redhead pulled her face into a grimace as she saw red fluid matching the color of her lips leaked out of her teeth and over her mouth. The red patch on her chin suggested an upward blow that sent throbbing pain to her bones.

“Oh, you.” her tone dead, but still deep.

“What happened?”

Yelena pulled a weak smirk as she shut her eyes and fall back into a slump, “they found us I guess.”

“Who?”

“The operational team who are rivals to my own. _Our_ own. They’ve been established soon after you graduated from the Red Room program. They aim to hunt down all black widows, all those who serve as a threat to their own ideal of ruling the country.”

“Including you?”

There was a short pause, “yes.”

“I guess they found out about me like how you found out about me then?” Natasha knew it was all down to herself for leaking S.H.I.E.L.D.’s information on the internet two years ago.

“You’re not so smart after all,” Yelena coughed at the end of her utterance, the sweetness of the warm red blood flowing through the gaps of her teeth absorbed by her taste buds. She winced as the pain on her thigh throbbed. She shut her eyes to sink herself into a deep place to cope. She struggled to twist her leg, opening one eye to have a quick scan at her wound. More blood, again.

Natasha switched her gaze to the pool of congealed blood sitting beneath Yelena’s leg. The spasms grew more intense as she tried to move her leg away from the pool of red.

“You’re losing blood, you need to get pressure on it.”

“I know,” she let out a brief chuckle, her facial muscle relaxed as the pain waned, “say, Natasha, why didn’t you fight back earlier?”

“What are you talking about?”

“On the bridge, or when you reach the stairs after tossing the bike away, you could’ve just fought me back and get rid of me.” She had to pause several times during mid-sentence to draw large amounts of oxygen in, “When I had you tied to the chair, you could’ve turned it into a weapon against me, you could’ve easily escaped from it. Why? Why not fight back, Natasha?”

Natasha’s gaze dropped to the floor.

_She’s definitely not wrong though. I could. And I know I could. Could’ve subtly steal a pair of sunglasses from a passer-by’s open bag and ditch my outfit, could’ve lead her into an isolated place and snapped her neck, could’ve tossed the motorbike towards her instead of the wall, could’ve use another way instead of climbing up the stairs, could’ve grabbed something hard to use as a weapon, could’ve fought her with this chair when she shoved her face near me. But that would’ve fitted the past me better. Violence? I still have it in me, but I’ve learned to channel it in a different way. I am more pragmatic now; I don’t react to everything with immediate violence. I was shown the way, I was taught, I was given the chance to learn, to deal with things differently. Perhaps that’s why. Perhaps…_

She turned her gaze back to Yelena, who was already staring at her. The paleness of her skin told Natasha she was losing a lot of blood.

“How did they know to find you here?” She avoided Yelena’s question earlier.

She let out a weak scoff, “you remember Osaka?”

“I try not to. But, be more specific.”

“You were undercover, and I was sent to take you out. One night… _that_ night… I was hiding in the dark alley opposite a pub, observing you flirt with a man.”

“The boss of the pub, yes.”

“I saw a suspicious man outside of the building, he was wearing the pub’s uniform. Luckily, I planted a bug on the corner of the wall earlier on, and so I manage to overhear his conversation through the radio.” Her voice began to hoarse as her dry throat begged for water. “I found out he was hired by them.”

“That organization you were talking about? The one who wants us out?”

“Yeah. I figured out I wasn’t the only one looking for you.”

Natasha remained silent, waiting for Yelena to continue.

“Then you fired.”

Natasha froze as parts of the forgotten memory came back in an instant. She always had snippets of memories from that event planted in the back of her mind, but other parts, especially those of which involve blood, killing, torture and violence, she had always tried to forget them as much as she could.

“You shot the boss, everyone else fled in panic. I saw him rushed in, drawing his gun out from his back pocket, and so I shot him, from a distance. A bullet into the back of his head.”

“… So, you were the one who shot him. You… You were the one who saved me.” The missing pieces in her memories of the event came flowing in. She remembered hearing a gunshot piercing through the eerie silence following everyone’s disperse from the scene. She only had a second to turn around and witness the bloody head laying lifelessly on the floor before she had to escape the pub.

Natasha was met with no response. She watched the blonde woman whose entire body wore purple-ish bruises and blood lowered her head.

“It’s my turn to ask you then. You could’ve taken your shot at me there, you could’ve ended me there. Why didn’t you do it? Or you could’ve let him take me out, you could’ve let him do the job for you. Why not?”

Nothing came out of Yelena’s mouth besides blood.

“I know.” Natasha began fumbling in her chair, but it was gone unnoticed, “I know why. Because you can’t do it and you don’t want to do it, isn’t that right, young one? You didn’t want blood on your hands-"

“I killed that man, still.” Her voice sharp.

“But you couldn’t do it to someone of your own.”

There was just silence and no movements, besides Yelena’s jerking leg, the spasms worsened from a few moments ago.

“You have a heart, Yelena. And there’s something inside of you that resents killing if it is not to protect yourself. You don’t want to be used as a tool, you don’t want red in your ledger. Like me, you’re struggling with yourself inside, but you don’t know how to channel your conflict, and so it brings you to me. It leads to a projection of your frustration on to me, it leads you to resent me. And by torturing me, getting rid of me, you’d think you’ll feel better now that there’s one less thing to worry about.”

“If that’s true then so what? We’re both going to die in the hands of… whoever they sent to kill us anyway.”

Natasha stopped fumbling in her chair, “No, I can get us out of here, look, before they-"

They turned in reflex to the distant sound of keys hitting each other, their gaze fixed on the door as they heard deep voices mumbling behind it.


	5. a journey's end and start

_Shit._

The muffled voices became clear as the door swung open, two big sized men strolled in as they planted their gaze onto Natasha. Their faces wore jagged scars and marks that looked like they had run through a forest of knives. One of them had a long untidy beard, while the other had a face mask covering the bottom half of his face. There was a gun holstered to the belt of the former man, very visible to the eye as it was pressed against the white t-shirt he was wearing.

He said something in Russian to the other man, who then pulled a smirk and slid a dagger out from his back pocket. Across the surface, there were smudges of dried blood. He replied in Russian, then took several steps forward, touching the tip of the dagger on Natasha’s chin which prompted her to lift her head.

“If she still remembers her mother language, after all,” he finished his sentence in English with a thick accent.

“Of course.” She flashed her iconic smirk before pulling her hands out from the entrapment of the rope. In a quick blink, she grabbed the chair and threw a swing at the man, knocking the dagger out from his grip and it landed on the ground a few feet away from them. Her unexpected move had the men stunned, and Natasha took this split second of opportunity to grab hold of the man’s wrist, twisting his arm behind him and kicked the back of his knee to make him drop on his knees. She held him in a chokehold with her free arm as the bearded man drew his gun out, pointing directly at her. She could tell Yelena was glancing at her with widened eyes from her peripheral vision.

“Drop the gun.” She ordered.

He burst into short laughter before recollecting himself, “a human versus a gun, who do you think will win?”

 _Of course._ But what choice did Natasha had other than enforce her own strength at life-threatening moments like these? Fighting back was a reaction she knew all too well, especially when the waves of panic sent pumps of adrenaline rush throughout her body.

The dagger was at an unreachable distance and the man was a little further than her leg could reach if she were to send a flying kick at his face while maintaining her chokehold on the masked man. She had no other choice than to use what was available in front of her, and to use her own fierceness as a weapon.

“I said, drop the gun.” She uttered in staccato, clenching her teeth as she put out full strength to fight the man’s resistance. Wounds stung in pain and blood continued to ooze out from scratches around her hands, but none of those mattered to her.

“Just go, Natasha.” The helpless blonde gathered her remaining strength to speak but did not earn any glance from Natasha nor the bearded man. They had their gaze locked at one another’s; eyebrows knitted close together as they panted loudly. The air filled with tension and the scent of blood.

“I’m not asking you again,” she felt the muscles in her arms screaming as they began to sore, there were moments of spasms as they were running out of energy. “put the gun _down_ or he dies.”

“You think I care for this man’s life?” he raised his voice.

The throbbing pain in her calf’s bullet shot wound prominent as she felt a slight tickle from the blood streaming down her leg. Sweats continued to flow down her cheeks, dripping off her chin and drenching her shirt.

“I came to complete my mission - this god damn mission for years! It is you black widows that are making me sick. For years I have been trying to hunt you down, going to all the places you have been. São Paulo, Osaka, that children’s ward in Norway…”

 _Again. Children’s ward._ Hearing the words caused her to tumble in her haunting memories. It always, always, always break through her wall and erode its structure, dragging her out of focus and ignite her fearfulness when those memories came back.

In that brief moment where the sight of the bearded man faded into the burning building and echoes of children laughing prior to the explosion filled the surroundings, the man seized the advantage, shifting the gun’s direction to Yelena. He pulled the trigger, and the sound of the gunshot fire snapped Natasha back into reality.

_Bang._

It rang in her ear, suddenly the concept of time felt different. Everything around her seemed to stop, besides herself. The smoke emitting from the gun’s muzzle seemed to slow down mid-air, the bearded man’s jerk from the force of firing gun seemed to stop. No movements, no sounds. All Natasha could sense was the sinking in her chest and heat in her head. She turned to the blonde, who looked just like how she had seen her a few moments ago, only now she had an extra hole on her chest, her clothes soaked in more blood, her head slumped.

Rage filled in, and time seemed to be resumed again. The fuel from the adrenaline pump activated a part of her. The part of her she had been trying to suppress for so long, that part that acts out of anger, of heartlessness and coldness.

Allowing her quick action to speak and her rush of emotions to take over, Natasha brutally snapped the masked man’s head as she turned her head back at the bearded man. Grappling the collar of the lifeless man’s shirt, she lifted him as the bearded man fired a second shot, this time at her.

She lunged the body forward, the man barely dodged it. As the body landed on the floor, he was soon met with two quick blows on both sides of his head as the redhead delivered flying kicks at him. His hands lost his gun as the surrounding spun, it was seconds before he fell onto his knees as he lost his balance. He squinted as he lifted his head, only to see the same gun pointing at him from a few feet away. After several succession of hard blinks, he could see the tremble in Natasha’s hands as she was filled with fume. Tears were threatening to exit her eyes.

“Guess they never taught you to kill the deadliest one first, huh?” her voice sharp.

The man lowered his head as he let out a chuckle, “They say you black widows are hard to kill… I guess it’s partially true.”

Natasha cocked the gun. Her hands still trembling, and her heavy panting was loud.

“I killed her… not because I want to kill at least one black widow before I die… Natalia. I killed her, because I want to watch you suffer…”

She swallowed a lump; her hands continue to tremble.

“I see you became weak when I mentioned those two words. You became scared and fearful. And then I seize my chance of killing her. She died, not because of me, but because you became weak and you couldn’t protect her. She died because of you. You weak pathetic-“

He was silenced by her gunshot.

Natasha dropped the gun as soon as the man fell onto the floor. A pool of blood spread across the floor, within seconds it reached the gun, flowing around it and wrapping it into its pool of red.

She gradually turned around to Yelena. Her breath was shaking as her mind began to fully register the events that had just taken place. The sight of the lifeless blonde covered in blood, bruises and scars that no longer mattered paralyzed her for a moment, but she pushed herself to move, the struggle to go closer to her was real. With every step she took, guilt poured in like a rushing river. Her head still heated, and with every breath she took, it pained her like knives slicing her throat.

She bent down to meet Yelena’s lifeless gaze, they were staring at blankness, void with any sign of life. Natasha could only hear her stammering breath grew louder as she brought her shaking hands forward, trying her best to close Yelena’s eyes as gently as possible. Anger turned into grief and sadness and tears poured as soon as her skin made contact with Yelena’s eyes.

Another unwanted, daunting experience to be stored in her memory.

 _And of course,_ She buried her face in her palms, allowing the tears to spill and slip through the gaps between her fingers, _of course it was because of me._

She let the pent-up guilt consume her, aching her heart as this familiar feeling lingered in her mind. It was so similar to what she had felt all those years when she was a voiceless tool, especially with that incident in the children’s hospital. If only she had remained alert, if only she had made a different call instead of letting herself loose for that split second, if only she had approached another way of dealing with the men, if only she had escaped from the entrapment earlier. So many ‘if only’ that could’ve made things different, but she dwelled on one she couldn’t forgive herself of: _If only I am strong enough._

Yelena might be someone she had just met briefly, and with a bad impression, but she was still someone who went through hell just like Natasha. And Natasha was always one with empathy even though she may seem cold and heartless at times, she always had a caring heart even though it was surrounded by walls of hardness. She could see that in Yelena as well, and being the older one, she wouldn’t want her to live her life with regrets. She wanted to help Yelena, but that chance was taken away, and all she could do is blame herself for not being able to save her and for not being able to show her she that she can make active choices in her life. This was a bitterness that made a permanent mark in Natasha’s heart.

She removed her hands, glancing at Yelena even though her teary eyes blurred her vision. She knew she had to move, she knew that there are possibly more of those people coming to hunt her down. They will never give up,

_And so do I._

Natasha placed a gentle palm on Yelena’s cold hands for one last time, “I’m sorry, little one.”, she pushed herself up onto her feet, though they barely recovered from her short break.

She stopped in her track as she was about to head towards the door. She noticed her phone by her feet, it had probably fallen out of her pocket when she was in combat, well, one-sided combat. Reaching forward to pick it up and staining the screen with her bloody thumbprint, she bit her lips as the screen unlocked to reveal the last page she was on, before things went downhill.

_Steve Rogers._

_Call_ | _Message_

She moved her thumb above the ‘call’ button, it trembled as her mind began to debate on whether to press it or not. A few seconds passed, she pulled her thumb away and slid the phone into her back pocket.

In times like these, Natasha wished she could just slump onto Steve’s chest, hearing comforting words from him and have her assured that she wasn’t alone, she wasn’t to blame. But she knew since day one, that she was, and is always alone when it comes to dealing with her emotional struggle. He may be there to show her the way out, but that was never a guarantee. At most, he could only offer a sense of security, but that to Natasha, was more than enough.

_I miss you._

_And I do,_

_Find your precious company,_

_When I feel,_

_Most alone._

* * *

His feet pounded the land that belongs to the earth, the shades of green and brown in his peripheral vision smudged and blurred. The cooling atmosphere did not holt his sweats from flowing, causing his shirt to clung onto his sticky skin. His hair waved in the direction of the blowing breeze, bouncing up and down with every step his feet took. The bottom of his pants filled with splatters of mud from plunging his feet into puddles. He kept his breathing steady, though he could feel the exhaustion in his legs.

Unaware of how long he had been running through the forest, Steve could only keep hoping for a road to appear. Hundreds of trees, they seem to surround him, and it felt like he was trapped in a maze. All he could do was to keep running, mentally yelling at himself every time his legs urged him to stop. His steps no longer spring in gracefulness and his raspy throat called for water. _Crap_ , he thought, as he acknowledged his stupidity for not bringing some water with him.

Steve stopped in his tracks as his stamina plummeted into level zero, stumbling in the last few steps as the muscles in his legs wore out. Bending forward as he pressed his palm against the rough trunk of a tree, he took rapid deep breaths, pausing several times in between to swallow his saliva. His heart pounded inside his chest and thick droplets of sweat dripped onto the ground, feeding the soil with a little salty fluid.

_Keep going, gotta keep going._

Running fast and long-distance shouldn’t be a problem to Steve Rogers, but the lack of calories and the mental torment he had recently gone through placed a strain in what he could usually achieve easily.

He straightened his stance as his breathing began to stabilize. He wiped the sweat off his temple before resuming his journey, beginning with a jog and then hasting up his speed.

After hundreds of steps and a few flashbacks along the way, a new sighting holt his movements. He saw a road ahead of him where the forest seemed to end. Letting out a huge sigh of relief, he followed where his legs brought him.

He stood by the narrow road, no sign of cars as he looked left and right. His mind still in a haze, he knew it was a risky move to be stopping a random car and seeking permission from a member of the public to send him to the nearest train station. What were the chances of him not being recognized as the wanted fugitive – the Captain America - that the government was looking for?

A vehicle appeared from the far end of the road, and without second thoughts, Steve raised his hand to signal it for help.

_Well, sometimes the risk is worth taking, no matter the outcome._

The vehicle became more visible as it drove closer, a navy-blue old model four-wheeler. He could tell that there was only the driver in it. It slowed down as it approached Steve, the engine coughed as the car braked.

He stepped towards the front passenger door as its window rolled down. A lady probably in her mid-50s perked an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, ma’am. If you don’t mind me asking, could you please give me a ride to the nearest train station?”

“That is miles away!” her high-pitched sound squealed. She didn’t seem to recognize the man, maybe because of his semi-grown beard and his long pushed-back hair, or simply because she doesn’t know who Captain America is.

“I’ll pay you. I have some cash on me.” His hand reached for his pocket and grabbed a few notes out, they crumpled in his firm grip. “Please.”

The lady rolled her eyes at him, “Come in. It’s free.”

Steve entered the car with a small smile emerging on his face, he couldn’t be more thankful that a random lady didn’t recognize him and that she agreed to give him a free ride to the nearest train station.

The start of the journey was a quiet one as no words were exchanged between them. He basked in the thought of finding, well, _possibly_ finding Natasha in Budapest. He could only hope for this journey to be as smooth as he could get, and that Natasha was safe where ever she may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies as it took quite a while for me to upload chapter 4 and 5, i was having trouble coming up with a plan to write for steve's journey to budapest (which starts here and will continue in the next chapter) - i decided to keep his journey a little more simple, so the next chapter would probably be the last... depending on how much I write. :) (please feel free to comment on my grammar etc)


	6. becoming whole again

His weak legs wandered across the platform, following his mildly hazed mind where ever it ordered him to go. He tensed his body as he squeezed through small gaps between the crowd, there weren’t many people, but the size of the small platform created a dense area. His gaze skipped through the faces of the crowd even though most of them were darting their eyes at his, secretly hoping that none would recognize him. At this point, he wasn’t sure if the pungent of smell emitting from his body combined with the worn-out clothing he was wearing or the fact that he’s the wanted Captain America that was attracting their stare. Whispers and chatters muffled as he gathered his remaining mental energy to focus on finding the signboard that should display the station’s name.

_ Rosersberg Station _

Steve raised an eyebrow at the sign,  _ okay,  _ he thought, grateful that at least he now knows the name of the place he was in, despite not knowing exactly where. He briefly groaned when he was reminded of the lady that drove him to the station, giving him silent treatment throughout the entire drive journey, even when he asked for the station’s name she was sending him to.

People around him still whispering, some subtly distanced themselves from him. At this point, he was only surprised and thankful that the securities haven’t marched their way through the crowd and detain him.

He continued strolling around, his vision swift in and out of focus as his tired gaze searched for the help service desk. Lucky enough, he spotted a lady in her work uniform behind a desk, pressing buttons on a keyboard as her attention switched continuously between the monitor screen and her fingers.

Steve stumbled onto the seat in front of the service helper as his shivering legs gave out on him, holding onto the edge of the counter for support. He swallowed a lump even though his mouth was almost completely drained of saliva, he was severely dehydrated. Ruffling his fingers through his long brown hair, he finally settled himself down to look at the service helper’s eyes, who was already widened in shock.

_ Please don’t recognize me  _ was all he could repeat in the midst of his foggy mind. He knew coming close to someone whose work position involved wide network connection would be risky.

“Sir, is there anything I can help you with?” her expression gradually transformed from surprised to disgust as she perceived the dirt stains on his worn-out shirt.

“Um,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “h-how do I get to Budapest?”

“Budapest in Hungary?”

Steve nodded.

“Give me two minutes as I look for the cheapest way of travel for you.” She turned slightly to the monitor screen and began typing.

“I’d prefer the fastest way, please.”

“The fastest way is not going to be cheap, sir.”

Of course, with what he had to be able to travel to another country?

“Just, let me know.” He paused, his tone void of hope, “please.”

“Okay, here’s what I’ll suggest. Firstly, to get to Budapest, you need to start your journey from Stockholm. It is about 45 minutes train ride from here. There’s no direct line to Budapest, so from Stockholm, you get to…”

“Wait, sorry, miss, would you kindly write it down for me?” Steve felt the world beginning to spin, he knew he was running low on everything – nutrients of all sorts, mental and physical energy.

“Sure.” She grabbed a pen and tore a paper out from a notebook, proceeding with her description as she scribbled information on the paper. “as I was saying, from Stockholm, you buy a ticket to Budapest. Take an approximately 5-hour train to get to Koebenhavn H station in Copenhagen, Denmark. Transit to the line from Koebenhavn H to Budapest-Nyugati, I’ve written down the two stops in between them, so you are aware.”

“How long is the whole journey?”

“A minimum of 24 hours, it depends because some of these train lines don’t run frequently in a day.”

“Okay… okay…” he nodded, “that’s… that’s the fastest journey, right?”

“Yes, sir. But I need to know if you can afford it.” From the looks of his messy hair, the sweaty odor he radiated and the state of his apparels, she almost suspected that he was just another beggar on the streets.

Steve shoved his hand into his pocket, paper crumpling sounds radiated in his firm desperate grip. He brought the paper notes out, rushing as his hand moved between his pocket and the countertop repeatedly until he made sure his pocket was empty. His breath stuttered as he was suddenly nervous.

“Is… Is… Is this enough?” his gaze pleaded as he watched the service helper flattened the notes while counting them. “I think I have some coins too in my back pocket.”

“This is enough, but only for the trip from here to Stockholm I’m afraid, sir.”

He paused for a few seconds, “t-then get me there. Get me a ticket, please.”

She pressed her lips, her eyebrows slightly crossed as she grew concern for Steve, “What do you plan to do when you get there, sir?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he scratched his head, “I’ll see when I get there.”

___

Almost stumbling as his feet hopped off the last step of the train’s stairs, his attention went to the size of the station. Structurally big and beautiful, filled with restaurants and people going about their own business. His eyes looked for potential danger in his surroundings as he became more alert - definitely grateful for the brief nap he managed to snatch from the 45 minutes train ride.

Lost.

Lost at where he was, in the middle of the flowing crowd. His feet making hesitating nudges before every step he took as he looked around in this unfamiliar place.

Lost at what he should do next. With just a few coins left pondering in his pocket, he was stuck, unsure of what he could do.

The smell of various kinds of food blended with one another, but yet remained distinguishable. They lingered in the air around him, prompting him to pay attention to his growling stomach. Colorful logos of fast-food restaurants and cafes stood out in front of him. He watched people of every age and gender sipped into their drinks, some widening their mouths to tear off large pieces of burger or sandwiches and chewing them down. His dry mouth would’ve been flooded with saliva if he wasn’t dehydrated. 

He rushed to the nearest public toilet, hoping to escape to a place that doesn’t remind him of food as he tried to forge out plans to get to Budapest. 

Cupping his hands to collect water running out from the tap, he brought them to his mouth, gulping down every drop of the liquid to quench his thirst. He repeated it until he felt satisfied and turned the tap off. Only then he lifted his head up to face himself in the mirror. 

Red veins stretched from the corner of his eyes towards the center like lightning. The bags underneath them were heavy, and the minor outbreaks on his cheeks and forehead seemed pretty visible. His new grown beard was the only thing he found pretty impressive as a new look. 

Steve pressed his palms against the edge of the sink a minute or two before the cubicle door behind him unlocked and swung open. He briefly watched the man stepped out from the cubicle and disappeared from the mirror’s reflection as he then appeared on his peripheral view. 

“You okay?” the man’s unexpected concern captured Steve’s glance for a split second. 

“Uhh, y-yeah.” 

Steve looked down as the man turned to face him while washing his hands. He still remembered that he was a wanted man and should avoid being recognized even though he needs help at that moment.

“Wait,”

Steve’s heart suddenly beat faster before he realized what could be potentially happening.

“Are you…” he paused for a moment, “... Captain America?”

He cleared his throat, trying to deepen his voice, “no.”

“Oh god, you are!”

“I’m not.”

“Sir,” he exhaled a minor laugh, “w-what are you-? how? but I thought you-“ 

“You got the wrong guy.” His head still remained dropped.

“Sir, I am a huge fan, and anyone who is a fan could recognize you.” He turned the tap off and tapped his hands on his shirt, “don’t worry, sir. I know what situation you’re in, I know they’re looking for you. But I’m not going to expose you, sir, I promise.”

Steve perked his head up at him, raising one eyebrow. “What?”

“Okay, first of all, that beard looks good on you, sir.” 

He gazed at the man whose attitude reminded him of his friend — the one he recently lost — Tony Stark.

“Secondly, not that you need to know, though, I’m from America as well.” 

_ Ahh yes,  _ Steve only just took notice of his accent. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Are you willing to help me?”

“Define ‘help’.”

“I need to get to Budapest… also, I have no cash.” 

“You’re in luck, sir. I’m on my way to Budapest as well.”

“You’re willing to help me out?” Steve didn’t expect the stranger to take his question seriously.

“As I said, sir, I’m a huge fan. And… Captain America needs my help, there’s no better reason to spend more money to help others.” 

Steve slightly smiled as he was reminded of his other good friend - Sam. He remained silent as he juggled with the options he had in his hands. Should he take the risk by following a stranger that could possibly expose him or should he remain in this train station and possibly not make it to Budapest? 

Risk his own safety, or throw his chance to ever find Natasha.

“You don’t trust me?” his question snapped the confused captain out of his mind. 

Trust. Trust is something he learned not to do easily in this modern, grey world. Trust is something ambiguous, and it can be betrayed by anyone no matter how close they are. 

And this sort of teaching came from the same woman he risked his life and safety for in the past day. The woman that he was willing to continue risking his own life for, to make sure she was safe. 

“I do. Mister…”

“Smoak. Gregory smoak, Greg for short.”

“Mister Greg-“

“Oh, just Greg will do.”

“Greg,” he reached a hand forward for a shake with his, “I’m very thankful.”

“Ahh, don’t go all nice on me. On one condition though…?”

Steve nodded as Greg shook his hand.

“You gon’ tell me about why you’re here and all that? And uhh, tips on how you grow that beard.”

“Sure,” he chuckled, “on the train.”

“Okay, 10 minutes. You can wait outside, or in here if you don’t mind the smell of public toilets.”

“I’ll stay here, I need to avoid people as much as I can.”

“Be right back, sir.” 

Greg set foot towards the door, before Steve spoke again, “One more thing, Greg,”

He turned around.

“A burger, please?” 

“I knew it! I’ll get two to feed that growling stomach of yours.”

“So, uhh, Cap,” 

“Steve.”

Greg turned his gaze at Steve as he shoved his hand luggage into the overhead compartment.

“Safety purposes. Also, I’m not ‘Cap’ anymore.” Steve shifted himself on his seat to get comfortable.

“Right, uhh, Steve,” Greg settled himself onto the seat opposite Steve before placing the tickets and his passport on the table that divided the two, “they’re going to do a check as soon as the train departs.”

“What’s the plan?”

“The best option is for you to hide in the toilet, I’ll tell them you’re a local and so you don’t have a passport.”

“Sounds unconvincing but okay.”

“Fingers crossed, I hope dude’s in a good mood today.”

Steve squinted his eyes as looked out the window. The beaming sun near the horizon shot bright rays of light in all directions, highlighting every object in the scenery with a shade of orange that doesn’t quite blend with them. Train tracks laid on the ground parallel next to theirs, none bore parked trains. Digital signboards flashed orange lights that read “Stockholm”, for the city that housed many that Steve didn’t get any chance to visit. 

He watched the scene moved in one direction, then he realized the train had begun its departure. The speaker played its announcement music before a lady-like voice made her speech. 

“The dude’s on it now,” Greg propped his head sideways to see the attendant making his checks in the next coach, “I think you should hide now.”

“Signal me when it’s safe to come out.”

“Go.”

Steve immediately make his way to the toilet, sheer panic coursing through his veins again. He’s got lucky with his journey so far, could they be gone the minute the train departed?

“Evening, sir. Can I have your tickets, please?”

“Here’s ours,” Greg handed the attendant the two tickets, trying his best to calm his nerves, “the other guy, my friend, he’s gone to the toilet but don’t worry about him, he’s a local.”

The attendant remained silent, Greg wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way or not. He grabbed the passport, flipping its page and paused when Greg’s ID photo appeared. Then, placing it back down on the table as he moved onto the next coach. 

Greg sighed, he waited for the attendant to move several seats away in the next coach before knocking the toilet door.

“Safe now, Steve.”

Steve gradually opened the door to reveal his worried eyes. They headed back to their seat.

The silence shared between them wasn’t long until Greg spoke up again.

“So, remember your promise?”

Steve kept his gaze out the window, absorbing the beauty of the sunset scene. 

“There’s nothing much, actually. We escaped to Sweden, hid in an abandoned house in the middle of a forest for days… I got bored, and I decided to go to Budapest.” 

“You looked desperate to go Budapest though. It doesn’t look like a need to escape boredom to me.” 

“Well,” he purses his lips together, trying to find the right words to say, he wasn’t sure why his brain began to feel stuck. “I’m going to find a friend.”

“Must be an important friend then.”

“I suppose.”

“I’m certain. Why though, may I ask? He or she in trouble too?”

“She. And yes.” Steve didn’t want to reveal who exactly he was looking for, he’d want to keep her as safe as possible, though it was fairly easy to guess who she was.

“It didn’t treat you well huh.”

“What?”

“The forest. I mean, look at the state of your clothes. The only good thing that happened is your beard though.”

“Enough food for them, but not me.”

“Your team?”

Steve nodded before swallowing a few mouthfuls of water down. 

“It must’ve been hard then.”

“Hunger was the least problem we had…. I had.”

“I know, I’m not talking about that.” 

Greg’s constant vague talking earned a raised eyebrow from Steve.

“The thing you went through with Tony Stark. And now you’re a wanted man.”

“I can live with that.”

Greg decided to let silence take over. He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and shifted into a comfortable position, getting ready to close his eyes and call it a night.

“Family,” Steve utterance earned a gaze from Greg, “I’ll always protect my family, no matter what.”

He snorted before shutting his eyes. 

It was a dreadingly long journey. With two stops in between, it took at least 24 hours to reach Budapest. Steve spent most of the hours awake, though his eyelids were heavy and his mind begged to be switched off for at least several hours. He couldn’t stop thinking, though he was sure he spent most of the time admiring the stars that were pinned to the sky and the sun awakening nature as it rose. 

He thought about his friends, his family. 

He thought about Natasha, one of his closest family members. 

* * *

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting in the dark. The only way she could tell whether it was a day or night-time was when rays of light entered through the small gaps through the holes of the torn window curtains. Also, if she decided to open her eyes for a little while.

She could feel droplets rolling down her temples, unsure if it were sweat or blood. Half-opening her heavy eyelids, she could see bloodstains on the tips of her hair, already dried up that her hair became brittle. 

The muscles on the back of her neck sore from dangling her head as she sat in that position for too long. With the passing time, she slowly desensitized herself from the throbbing pain of the deep wound in her calf. Her hand still holding the blood-filled cloth on the wound. With time still ticking, she hears her breath stutter as she began to lose touch with life.

She wouldn’t move and lost the will to do so. The mental and physical torment drained her soul and her willingness to live on. Giving up was never in her nature, it wasn’t a Natasha Romanoff thing to do, but the past weeks have been treating her hell, and she was on the verge of giving up and let herself slowly bleed to death. 

Natasha Romanoff, the deadliest spy who was always using her special skill sets to defend herself even though she could’ve just ended her life, ended her pain right there, never gave up. But this time, she really needed the pain to go, and she thought, the only way out is to end her life.

End her life in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, isolated from the world. End her life where she was alone. 

The view of her legs in front of her – the uninjured one straightened and the injured one folded in – blurred out as she gradually shuts her eyes again. 

_ The dark again. _

She drew in a deep breath.

_ Take me. _

She held her breath.

_ Take me somewhere brighter. _

She exhaled.

“Natasha” a deep, faint voice echoed in her mind, it was a familiar voice she was longing to hear.

_ Yes, I hear him. Bring me to him. _

“Natasha?” the same voice echoed louder, she was beginning to enjoy this hallucination.

A male figure made light steps towards her. He bent his knees and hunched forward as he approached her. His ocean eyes filled with worry at the sight of a fragile and weak woman in front of him, the woman who he always visualized as a strong woman.

“Nat?” his stuttering voice barely above a whisper.

Kneeling on one knee and with the other close tucked to his chest, he reached to the far right and slightly pulled the curtain aside to allow a little more light in. He wanted- no, he  _ needed _ to make sure it was her, and although her body was covered in bruises and blood, he needed to make sure that she was alive and safe. This was what he hoped for in the past few weeks, was to get to her and made sure she was still alive. 

The sunlight landing on her face revealed blue-red patches on her cheekbones and a swollen red bump under the corner of her dried lips. Over the auburn red forelock hair dangling in front of half her face, he saw a line of dried blood on her temple. His eyebrows furrowed as he switched his gaze onto her body. Her chest rising and falling heavily as she struggled for every breath. Sweat covered her neck and collarbone areas. He moved his gaze lower and swallowed a lump as he witnessed her quivering hand weakly holding onto a blood-dampened cloth on her calf. Her tank top stained in dirt and blood, mostly in darker shades of red as they had dried out over the past day. Possibly not hers as there weren’t any injuries on her abdomen and chest. The blood seeping out from the gaps between her fingers lead to the bottom half of her body. He searched for any more injuries on the folded leg in front of him, a small hole on the inner thigh area of her black pants revealed a minor cut. He couldn’t find any cuts on the other leg that was straightened out next to him, but he knew more bruises were hiding underneath the black pants.

He pressed his palms onto his face, trying to recollect himself before placing a light touch on her delicate and fragile cheek. He was afraid to induce more pain in her.

_ I can feel him now. His touch. I can smell his presence, oh, I longed for this for so long. This comforting touch. _

He gradually moved his fingers towards her jaw, gently lifting her head up. Her eyes remained shut.

“Nat wake up. It’s me, Steve. I’m here.”

_ Steve. I’ve been waiting for you. _

“Come here.” He moved his hands behind her neck to support her head as he brought his free arm around her shoulders, allowing her to rest her head on his chest.

_ This warm embrace I am feeling around me… this warm embrace… this familiar warm embrace… it is taking my pain away… _

He looked down at her leg, her weak grip around the red-stained cloth still maintained on that position.

_ I see the light, a road of light, and I feel nearly free now. Nearly free from all the pain, the struggle, the hurt. Finally, a ray of light in this world of darkness. _

“Nat, please stay strong. Stay strong for me. You’re going to be okay.”

She turned around to the sound of his voice as she was about to take her first step towards where the light led her, Steve Rogers, the man’s presence she craved so dearly over the past days when so many things happened in a short space of time.  _ Steve.  _ She was sure she mumbled his name out aloud.  _ You’re okay. _

He lowered his head to meet her eyes, they were still shut. “I’m here, Nat. I’m okay and you’re going to be okay too.”

She turned her head back at the ray of light leading to her freedom from pain.  _ No, I’ve found a brighter light now.  _ She turned back at him, staring into his ocean blue eyes, brunette hair silk backward and a new fine beard covering nearly half of his face. As she walked towards him, white flashed over her vision and suddenly she finds herself back in this dark room again. Only this time, that familiar embrace remained around her and it felt more real. Her heavy eyelids fluttered as they struggled to fully open, her vision a little blurred as her head was slightly spinning. She managed to look up and meet his gaze, slightly frowning in disbelief.

“Steve? You’re really okay.” Natasha blinked slowly, trying to lift her head up so that she could take a better look at him.

“I am, Nat. Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay too.” He almost placed one hand over her head to press her towards him as tightly as possible, but he was too afraid of inflicting any more pain with the injuries covering her entire body. 

She closed her eyes and forced a weak smile.

There was a short silence before she spoke, “Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Being apart from you is not a great idea.” Her voice fainted towards the end of the sentence.

“Being apart from you isn’t a great idea for me too.” Steve knew something had happened, something  _ big,  _ but he’d save that conversation for later. 

Natasha softly chuckled before she spoke again, “then how did you cope?”

“I thought of you to fill in the hole. But it wasn’t enough unless I physically see you, that you’re alive and safe. I’m sorry, Nat, I didn’t come earlier.”

“Well, I’m safe now. We’re safe,” Natasha opened her eyes to meet his gaze, “as long as we’re together, we’re safe.”

“Mm,” he placed his lips onto the crown of her head, gently rocking her body in his embrace, “I promise we’ll stay together, no matter what.” 

_ The thing about you is, _

_ You carry this kind of comfort, _

_ That draws me in, _

_ And it’s a lot like mine for you.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> biggest apologies for the late update - my mental health wasn't being kind to me these days. 
> 
> decided to make this the final chapter and hence it is longer than the previous 5. i could do a part 2 with how natasha healed, how steve and natasha reunite with sam, wanda and vision again and how they escape to scotland but i guess it depends if i have any interesting ideas of how this can go. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! (again, comment on grammar if you want to!)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading through! 
> 
> *In the MCU, Steve's mental health was not really addressed so here I try to show it as much as I could, it may not be enough because its difficult to understand him, given that it wasn't really shown to us in the MCU. I did my best!


End file.
